University of Virginia Library

SUNDAY MOBS

Tho' we at times amid the mob may find
A beauteous face, with many a charm combin'd;
Yet still it wants the signature of mind.
On such a face no fine expression dwells,
That eye no inborn dignity reveals;
Tho' bright its jetty orb, as all may see,
The glance is vacant—has no charms for me.
When Sunday's sun is sinking in the west,
Our streets all swarm with numbers gaily drest;
Prankt out in ribbands, and in silks array'd,
To catch the eyes of passing sons of trade.
Then giggling milliners swim pertly by,
Obliquely glancing with a roguish eye;
With short and airy gait they trip along,
And vulgar volubility of tongue;
Their minds well pictur'd in their every tread,
And that slight backward tossing of the head:
But no idea, 'faith, that harbours there,
Is independent of a stomacher.
Their metaphors from gowns and caps are sought,
And stays incorporate with every thought:
And if in passing them I can but spare
A moment's glance—far better thrown elsewhere—
They deem my admiration caught, nor wist
They turn it on an ancient fabulist,
Who aptly pictur'd, in the jack-daw's theft,
These pert aspirers of their wits bereft.
To these, as well as any under heaven,
A well-form'd set of features may be given:
But where's the halo? where's the spell divine?
And the sweet, modest, captivating mien?
“Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye,”
Where are they?—far from these low groups they fly:
Yes, far indeed!—for here you cannot trace
The flash of intellect along the face;
No vermeil blush e'er spreads its lovely dye,
Herald of genuine sensibility.
These extras, e'en in beauty's absence, charm;
But when combin'd with beauty, how they warm!
These are the charms that will not be withstood,
Sure signs of generous birth and gentle blood.
There is a something I cannot describe,
Beyond th' all-gaining influence of a bribe,
Which stamps the lady in the meanest rout,
And by its sure criterion marks her out;
Pervades each feature, thro' each action flows,
And lends a charm to everything she does;
Which not the weeds of Irus could disguise,
And soon detected wheresoe'er it lies.